The Feel of Leather...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I guess every story like this needs to start with a confession, so here’s mine – I love boots.  I love wearing them, the feel of them on my legs, and I love the way men look at me as I walk when wearing them.  If you look in my closet at home, you’ll see my collection – all styles, all colours, and all materials.

 

Right now, however, I have to admit that’s not the uppermost thought in my mind.  What is uppermost in my mind is the fact I seem to be in some sort of warehouse, sitting on a frankly old wooden chair with the paint peeling off it, and my wrists secured behind the back of my chair by a strap that not only holds them together, but to the chair itself.

 

I’d been out for a few drinks with my girlfriends, and was wearing a short black dress with cap sleeves, and over the knee black patent leather boots.  Right now I can feel the strap round my ankles that are holding them to the two front legs of the chair, and as I scowl at my two captors I know they can see a glimpse of my pink panties.

 

The question I need answering is, who are they, and why did they force me into a car and bring me here?  I’m not that special – well, I’m not bad looking, with long copper red hair and although I have contacts on today I normally wear glasses, but – why me?

 

I suppose I should be grateful it’s not the first time someone’s tied me up – that was a few years ago, when a college ‘friend’ and I went to a garage sale in town.  I was wearing a red and blue lumberjack shirt over a white t-shirt, jeans and a pair of light tan pull on leather boots that came to just below my knees.  Comfy and good for walking round in given the flat soles and lack of heel.

 

Anyway, when we went back to the car he suddenly said he wanted to try a little something – an adventure id you like, and would I be interested in playing along?  Well, I had no reason not to trust him, so I asked him what he had planned.

 

That’s when he told me he wanted to pretend to kidnap me, and keep me covered up in the back of the car while he drove back to college.  I probably should have told him to stop there and then, but – well, I took it as a dare, so I agreed and asked him how he wanted to do this.

 

Opening the back of the car, he asked me to lie face down, and put my hands behind my back.  So, trusting him, I did that, and then I felt some sort of cord going around my wrists and holding them together behind my back.  It wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but then he tied my ankles together, and I heard the squeak of leather on leather as my legs rubbed against each other.

 

He did it very simply – neon of this stuff between my arms or legs, but I played along.  I even opened my mouth when he asked me to, as he pulled a rolled up red bandana between my teeth and tied the ends together at the back of my neck.  It tasted strange, but I also let that pass as he covered me with a blanket, and we set off to return.

 

I just lay there as we bumped along the road, honestly more concerned about falling off the seat than anything else, and wondering how long it was going to take – before I heard the police siren and we slowed down, eventually stopping.

 

I could hear someone walking alongside the car, and then my friend talking to what I assumed was a police officer – something to do with a faulty indicator light if I remember correctly.  That was the point I started panicking – and then I sneezed.

 

The next thing I knew, the blanket that was covering me was pulled off, and I rolled over to see a police officer looking at me, and my very embarrassed friend standing behind him.  He looked at me, then at my friend, and then back at me before he asked if I had agreed to this.

 

Well, I nodded, which was when my ‘friend’ revealed it was actually part of a prank he wanted to play on me with the help of some of his classmates.  As you can imagine, I did not take this news very well – as I forced the rolled up bandana from my mouth and told him in no uncertain terms what I thought of him right that second.

 

End result – I got a ride home with the officer, and my friend?  I think he recovered eventually from the tip of my leather boot between his legs...

 

 

At least that occasion was mildly funny.  The first time I found myself really involved in a robbery was when I started working for a local consultancy firm.

 

By then, I was earning some money, and using it to expand my collection – the aim at the time being to be coordinated as much as possible in footwear and clothing.  On this particular day, I was wearing a pink blouse with thin grey diagonal stripes and a short black skirt.  I suppose it could be argued that the blouse was a little tight, but I wasn’t complaining – besides, it matched the boots I had selected perfectly.

 

They were made from dusky pink leather, with a three inch stiletto heel, and designed so that they appeared to have a cuff turned down below the knee, a thin strap just below the top appearing to keep it held down.  All details of course – but I appreciated that none the less.

 

There were three of us in the office when things decided to go south – me, the office manager, and an eighteen year old assistant.  Both of the other women were wearing trouser suits and camisole tops under their jackets – not my style, but hey, to each their own.

 

Where was I?  Oh yeah – so we were in the office, when the door opened and three men walked in.  They were smartly dressed, nice suits, clean shirts, ties – and stockings pulled down over their heads, as one of them produced a shotgun and made all three of us kneel on the floor, facing the wall.

 

I had no idea what was going on – but as I felt one of them put my wrists together, I then felt some sort of plastic strip on my skin, and heard the rasping sound as they were suddenly forced together.

 

They then made us sit down, and I watched as they used what I now realised was a zip tie to secure our ankles together, one by one, the plastic biting into the leather around mine as it made that squeaking sound again.

 

One of them then opened his jacket, and removed from inside strips of duct tape, which he pressed firmly down over our mouths to stop us talking.  We could only watch as they looked through the filing cabinets, eventually finding what I presumed they were looking for and then leaving us there.

 

The other two were too scared to do anything other than look round, which meant it was going to be up to me to raise the alarm.  So I started to scoot myself across the floor, and managed to pull a phone down with my hands, before dialling 911...

 

 

 

Looking at my current position, scooting was not an option – especially as one of the two men looks at me and comes over, using another belt to secure my waist to the back of the chair.

 

I suppose in the scale of “things that could be used to keep me in one place”, these come fairly high on the comfort side.  Certainly better than zipties or twine, but rope...  The first time I was properly tied with rope was when I was attending a friend’s wedding at a country house.  And I can only thing these memories are coming back because of my current position...

 

It was the evening after the ceremony itself, and we had all changed out of our wedding outfits into something more suitable for a party.  In my case, I had put on a sleeveless white jumper, with a roll neck, and a gold leather knee length skirt.  Yes, I also like to wear leather clothes from time to time – I feel good in them, and this was perfect for the party.

 

And for my legs?  Deep burgundy red boots, ruffed with a one inch stiletto heel and just gorgeous to look at.  I admired myself in the mirror, and then walked down to join the others at the party.

 

And I have to say, it was an incredibly good party – everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, before we made sure the bride and groom got a damned good send off, and we headed to our rooms.  Now, this was a country house hotel, so quiet, peaceful, nobody unlikely to be coming close who was not attending the event, right?

 

Except, perhaps, someone who saw an opportunity to rob a few people – like the man in black who I bumped into when I got back to my own room.  And I mean black – roll neck sweater, gloves, trousers, shoes, and domino mask over his eyes, like someone playing a safecracker in a forties movie.

 

Well, he looked at me, I looked at him, and then he very quietly asked me to come in, and said he would not hurt me if I did what he said.  Well, was I in a position to argue?  I walked slowly forward, and sat on the bed as he looked in a small rucksack that was sitting on the desk chair.  From it, he took several lengths of thin rope, before he told me to turn round and face the wall, before putting my hands behind my back.

 

His voice was actually quiet, gentle, reassuring – even as I felt him cross my wrists behind my back, and then felt him wrap the rope around them.  It felt very different from that stunt my so-called friend pulled, the rope was softer, and he wrapped it around my arms in such a way it felt comfortable.  He then pulled the rope between my arms, making it even more secure as he tied the ends off.  I tried to find the knot with my fingers, or work them loose, but I couldn’t find anything.

 

He then knelt in front of me, crossing my ankles as he used another length of this rope to tie my ankles together.  I watched the way he did it, quickly, smoothly, obviously well practised, before he tightened it by taking the rope between my legs and pulling them tighter. 

 

He then did something different – he took a third length of rope, and tied it around my legs below my knees.  The rope band seemed to sit on top of my boots, as he pulled it between my legs as well.  This time, and yes this is going to sound weird, it felt – nice, and it sounded nice the way the leather sounded as it rubbed together.

 

As did my skirt as I wriggled round on the bed.  That surprised me as well – enough that I did not realise he was tying my arms to my side until I felt the pressure around my chest, and then realised I could not move them at all.

 

I was unable to stop him as he laid me on my side, and I watched as he emptied my jewels and money into his bag.  I had to keep still, to stop my skirt riding too much up – and then he came over and gently pulled my skirt back down, before he rolled me onto my back, and took a clean handkerchief out of a drawer.

 

He told me to open my mouth, and – well, like I could stop him forcing me to do so?  I opened my mouth, and he put the folded cloth in, waiting as I closed my lips over it before he took a roll of brown fabric plaster from the bag, tore a long strip off, and smoothed it down over my lips as I lay there.  He then rook my glasses off me, folded the legs and placed them by the bed, before he left me there.

 

I tried moving round, the only sound the squeak of leather, before I started to try and get the plaster off my mouth.  But my god, that stuff can stick – it took hours before I was able to even begin to get the edge off, and by the time it was off completely the maid came in to start cleaning the room!

 

When the police had talked to me, and left me alone, one thing struck me like a thunderbolt – I hadn’t panicked, and once I had relaxed, I had to admit it was rather nice to be like that.  Not that I would choose it normally, but it was different...

 

 

 

 

Right now, I’m beginning to wonder if this was going to be an even longer time, as the other man walks over and talks to me, telling me he needs me to make a phone call to my boss, and tell him he has to do something so that I can be freed.

 

So I’m the bargaining chip in all this – nice.  All I can do is look at both of them and nod as I try to move my hands with no success whatsoever.

 

When I look at them, they show me the telephone – and I see a roll of white tape on a table, as well as a sponge.  For some reason, that takes me back to when my house was robbed – and how I was left on that occasion.

 

This was about six months ago, and I had the day off work to take care of some personal business.  As I was visiting my bank manager, I decided to go for a subtle approach to my clothing, putting on a round necked top with a muted colours print of flowers in an ethnic design.  My skirt was white and knee length, and I had selected a pair of tight fawn coloured suede boots.

 

Yes, I already said I had boots in all sorts of materials, including suede, which I love for comfort and a subtle statement.

 

Anyway, I was about to head to the car when I heard a noise in the kitchen.  Walking in, I could not see anything untoward, nothing really out of place – and then, as I turned round, the door to the back garden swung open.

 

I thought I must have forgotten to lock it, as I closed it – and then saw the lock had been hampered.  That was when I had a hand clamped over my mouth, and a voice behind me told me to keep quiet, and I wouldn’t be hurt.

 

Looking to the side, I saw the knife that had been in my block, so I nodded as I was walked over to the table, and my captor told me to pull one of the dark wooden chairs out.   I did that, and then they made me sit side on, the knife and the hand disappearing as my arms were pulled behind my back.

 

My top had long flowing sleeves, so that when my wrists were tied together whoever this was kept the rope over my sleeves.  It meant it was more like my forearms than my wrists, but they were still as firmly secured.  That was just reinforced as I was turned round, and my arms taken over the back of the chair before they were secured to one of the back supports – and then another length of rope to tie my arms together around my elbows, making me gasp as my chest was pushed out.

 

Looking over my shoulder, I was shocked to see it wasn’t a man, but a young woman, a scarf tied over her face as she took more rope, and lashed my upper body to the chair, forcing me to stay in place.

 

I asked her what she wanted as she knelt in front of me, and used another length of rope to bind my ankles tightly together, the white rope visible even as it compressed the suede around my legs, before pulling them under the chair and securing them to the centre spar.  She then tied my legs together below my knees, and then stood up, looking at me with her head to one side.

 

I literally could not move – and then she went into the hallway, returning with a large scarf made of the same material as my top.  I had intended to wear that over a jacket, over this top – instead, she rolled it into a band, tied a large knot in the middle, and I was forced to open my mouth as she pulled the knot between my teeth, and then tied the silk band around my head.

 

I watched as she walked into the house, trying to call after her, while the knot started to soak up all the saliva and moisture from my mouth, and I screamed in frustration.  I also wriggled round – no, not with the sound of leather.  Suede on suede is a much quieter sound, and I easily drowned that out with my own calls.

 

Eventually, she came back, carrying a pillow case with my valuables inside.  She paused only to check the ropes, and then left – but not before she gave me a kiss on the back of my neck, and I shivered.  I had got used to being like this, but the sensation of someone doing that when I was powerless to stop them...

 

 

 

 

“Boss?  I can confirm what the man said – I’m not hurt, but they are holding me captive.”

 

One of the two men is holding a cell phone to my ear as I speak, the other one nodding as I repeat what they have asked me to say.  It’s at times like these I wonder why I go for nights out with the girls, especially...

 

They end the call, and the next thing I know they’ve pushed a red rubber ball into my mouth, and then pressed a strip of white tape tightly over my mouth, making it impossible for me to do anything other than mumble and stare at them, as they sit down and start playing cards.

 

Still, at least I am reasonably comfortable.  All things in, it’s not as bad as what I usually think of as my black and white night...

 

Why?  Because it was a week after I finally found my holy grail – a pair of knee length white leather boots.

 

I can’t explain why it is, but the idea of white boots both fascinates and worries me – and not just because of the joy of trying to keep them clean.  Anyway, I finally found them in a market, just the right length with just the right height of heel.

 

Later that week, I was invited out to a concert, so I decided to wear them with a white leather jacket, over a black leather dress with a knee length skirt.  I really did feel like a rock goddess as I stepped out of my house, and got into a taxi I had booked to get to the concert venue.

 

The concert itself was fantastic, and my friend and I went to a bar to have a drink before we headed home.  We were the only two in there, with a very bored looking barman, so we talked, had our drink, and were about to leave when two men walked in.  One of them closed and locked the door, while the other produced a handgun and pointed it at the three of us, telling us to sit still and do what they said.

 

Now, the question in my mind was, why the hell were they robbing this bar?  Not that we got a lot of choice in the matter, as the other man walked behind me, pulled my arms behind my back, and there it was – the feeling of rope on my wrists as they were secured together behind my back.

 

My friend, who was wearing a black leather jacket and pants, with ankle boots, also had her wrists tied behind her back, while the barman was made to watch with his hands on his head.  The men then took from a bag they had brought in long lengths of rope, and they started to bind our arms to our sides, the rope sitting in bands above and below our chests as our arms were forced into our sides.

 

I’ve already said how rope squeaks when it rubes on my boots – so imagine how it sounded on my jacket and dress, as the jacket was forced open with my chest forced out.  And then imagine how it felt on me when the rope rubbed there – especially there...

 

We were then made to lie face down on the floor, while our ankles were crossed and tied together, and then our legs below our knees,  before our ankles were pulled back and tied to our chest ropes.  At the same time, the barman was being tied up next to us on the floor, his eyes filled with fear as well.

 

So you get the picture – hogtied on the floor, the ropes rubbing on the leather and our bodies, and no idea why they were doing this.  I just wondered how long it would take them to...

 

Well, I didn’t have to wait very long at all, as they pushed bar cloths into our mouths, and then wrapped duct tape around our heads.  At least the lifted my hair out of the way as they did this, as we looked at each other, wondering what was going to happen, and how long we would be like this.

 

So when one of the men opened the door, and four more came in with equipment, we all looked at each other.  Then blindfolds were tied over our eyes, with cotton wool in our ears, and we heard a dull thudding sound...

 

 

 

It was later the next morning when the police found us – they had knocked through a wall in the bar to the jewellers next door, and emptied the place.

 

My friend was badly shaken up, but I was just tried, sore, and bruised.  As for those boots – I had to get them cleaned properly, but I still have them.

 

Which brings me back to this day, and my current situation.  I had no idea what was happening, save the two men playing cards – and then one of them looks at his phone.

 

I watch him leave his friend watching me, as he talks to someone, and then he nods to the other guy.  I try to push myself back as he walks forward, putting some clear liquid on a cloth, and then he clamps it over my nose, making me breathe it in as a fog seems to descend over my eyes and I succumb to the fumes...

 

 

 

 

When I wake up, I’m back in my flat, untied, able to speak, and my boss is looking at me, asking if I’m all right.  I nod as I sit up, glad it was over – and hoping that would not happen again.

 

Not without my permission...

 

 

 

 

 

 

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